Charade
by just.like.kndrgrtn.x3
Summary: She's always believed in fairytales, in finding her prince charming, but her mother had other plans when she arranged for her to marry the wealthy Troy Bolton. Now married to a man she barely knows, Gabriella finds herself wondering if he's as distant as he seems or if he's really her prince charming after all. Rated M. It's set sometime in the 19th century.
1. Chapter 1

Charade

Chapter One

* * *

She's always been one for believing in fairy tales.

As a little girl, when her mother would crack open a book and tell her a tale about a trapped princess in a locked away tower, she'd find herself smiling with glee when the beloved prince came to her inevitable rescue.

She's always been one for believing in fairy tales.

As a little girl, when the charming prince would rescue the poor princess in her book, she would find herself wishing and hoping for the same fate, for the same future as the beautiful princess from the story.

She's always been one for believing in fairy tales.

So, when her mother had announced to her that she'd be wedding an unwilling business man on the night of her eighteenth birthday, her beliefs and dreams had been crushed.

She's no longer one for believing in fairy tales and happy endings.

"Are you ready, my darling?" Her mother asks, moving a hand from her hip to check the bow of her daughter's dress.

Gabriella glances at her reflection, tears clouding her sight as she admires the white gown adorning her body, "Mama..."

The elder woman moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue, "Hurry on up now, darling. You have important guests."

The young woman slowly nods and bites her insides of her cheeks, shrugging her arms down hopelessly by her sides and following her mother out of her bridal room.

She shudders when the familiar tune starts to play as she walks beside her mother down the aisle.

The unknown faces stare at her, some with envy, some with joy. She's not sure which are more frightening.

Maria Montez stops at the end, swiftly clasping her daughter's hand one last time before handing her over to the man waiting beside them.

Glancing over at him, Gabriella swallows a breath.

He's handsome, she can't deny it. And she's sure that he'd make a fine father to their future heirs, but she's not ready for this.

She can't marry him, she can't hand herself over to this man for the rest of her life. She only just knows his name and his age. His seven years above her barely show on his twenty-five year old face.

She knows his age, and his name. But she doesn't know him.

She doesn't know what he likes, to eat or to do in his spare time. She doesn't know his weaknesses, or even his strengths. He seems like a well-built man, strong enough to carry her or a particularly heavy piece of equipment.

But she doesn't know him.

She just knows that he has to do this for her family, for her mother, for her safety, for her security.

He doesn't seem any more enthusiastic than herself, she notes. He gazes at her with a blank look, as though he's none too thrilled about their situation either.

She wonders if maybe he had planned to wed another, if he had another bride in waiting, another woman that he actually wanted to spend his life with.

Not her, not some half-peasant girl from the village who knows only little about royalty and success.

But she does it anyway.

"I do."

She marries him, and she becomes Mrs. Troy Bolton.

* * *

"You should leave now, my darling."

She turns, dazed, at her mother's whisper and frowns.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Maria grasps her hand and strokes her hair lovingly for an instant before she speaks again, even quieter this time, "To his bedchamber."

Gabriella pauses, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

She's absolutely not ready for this. She's not ready to be intimate with a man she barely recognizes. She gulps and stares into the woman's eyes, searching for some sort of compassion or anything remotely close, "Mama."

Her mother nods her head and rests a hand on her back, slowly guiding her towards the staircase.

Gabriella watches a couple of elderly women by the main door of her new household, watching as her mother ushers her forward. They seem to whisper and mutter something about her as she unwillingly walks upstairs, staring back at her mother with a terrified expression.

Do they know?

That she never wanted this?

That she doesn't want to sacrifice herself to her new husband?

How she doesn't want to give him her body?

Watching their faces, she realizes that they don't pity her, they relate to her, and she thinks that maybe they've been in similar situations in their past, in their own marriages.

Carefully walking up the stairs, she takes a deep breath before heading down the hallway.

* * *

He's sat in the corner of the room when she gets there, his legs wide and a cigarette in his hand. His head is thrown back as though he is worn out, and she can hear his heavy breathing from the few feet away she stands.

Gabriella licks her lips, subconsciously enjoying the sight of his rugged form slouched and tired. She closes the door behind her quietly before spinning around and standing straight, her hands clasped innocently behind her back.

She doesn't speak or move, she just simply stands for a moment, admiring the way his chest breathes in and out, and watching as the smoke from his cigarette fills his surroundings.

She's never had a smoke before, nor does she ever intend to. The smell has a tendency to repulse her stomach, but she figures that she must now get used to the horrid air.

His flicks the end of his smoke with his index finger and she watches as he lifts his head, his eyes closed as he takes another puff of the toxic air.

His face is beautiful, she notes, wishing that his eyes would open again so she could gaze into his ocean coloured blue orbs. She doesn't know him that well, but she could get used to staring into those eyes of his. His deep dark brown hair is scruffy, slightly hanging over his forehead and she notices his knitted eyebrows as though he's in deep thought about something.

When the cloudy smoke reaches her lungs, she lets out a quiet cough, clamping a hand over her mouth.

"How long have you been there?" She perks up and lifts her head, turning to face him.

She clears her throat and shrugs, "Not long."

He simply nods and licks his lips, casting his gaze away from her.

She's not sure what to do, how to move.

As a girl, she'd been told that on her wedding night, her prince charming would show her how to be loved, how he loved her.

As a young woman, she'd been warned that her wedding night may be slightly painful and strange, and that she might not immediately feel her husband's love because it's her duty to love him first.

As a bride, she hadn't been told anything. She hadn't been informed of anything, advised of how to act or of what to do.

She had no idea what she was doing.

She's incredibly innocent and untouched, her first kiss taking place with him only a few days earlier at their rehearsal dinner. It had been awkward and strange, rough on his part and clumsy on her own.

But she figures that she's going to have to get used to it, to this, to him.

"Are you just going to stand there?" He asks her as he raises an eyebrow, amused at her stance.

She fidgets her fingers behind her back, nervously toying them around in circles. She swallows a breath before smiling over at him, "No."

"Come here." He says, sticking his cigarette between his teeth as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

She falters before taking anxious steps towards him, her fingers shaking behind her back as she walks.

Her dress does a good job of covering her body and her skin. The long sleeves cover her bare arms and the lace panel across the bust hides her curved cleavage.

She bites her bottom lip when he leans closer and holds her shoulders. She turns around at his accord and stiffens when she feels him undoing the buttons down the spine of her dress.

She's always wanted a simple wedding dress, elegant and white.

Gabriella holds her breath when he finishes with the buttons and pulls the material at her shoulders, tugging the top half of her wedding dress down her arms.

She's not a fool, she knows that he's had his fair share of conquests, of women he's bedded. And now she's going to find herself added to the list.

What if she can't satisfy him? What if she can't give him what he needs? What if he gets fed up with her and moves on behind her back?

She's not a fool, she knows that he's obviously going to sleep around outside of their marriage. And, though she barely knows him and definitely doesn't love him yet, she's dreading the thought of having to share her husband with some whore.

Then, she turns back around, and holds his gaze as she pulls the dress down her body, bending slightly as she reaches her hips. The lacy white material pools at her feet and she drops her arms beside her body carelessly.

Troy stares at her for a moment, watching as she stands before him anxiously, her knees slightly shaking. He doesn't think she's aware and he softly chuckles.

"What?" She sounds self-conscious all of a sudden and he shakes his head.

He grasps her hands in his own, placing his cigarette back between his lips. He tugs her forward slightly, bringing her down onto his lap. Her legs fall on either side of his body and she straddles his waist. Her hands, still tucked firmly into his own, place themselves on her thighs. "I'm not going to hurt you." He tells her, removing his smoke from his mouth and holding it away from her. Lightly coughing at the smell, she boldly takes it from his hand and puts it out on the arm of his chair. She bites her lip again, her nerves coming back as he smirks, "Unless you want me to."

She frowns, "Why would I want to be hurt?"

He leans back and runs his hands up her legs, his fingertips brushing along the edge of the white nightgown she'd worn under her dress. "Some people enjoy pain. I take it that you're not one of them?"

She pauses, unsure of the circumstances of his question. Does he mean pain in real life, or pain in... other things?

"Judging by your lack of a reply, I'd say you're unsure. And inexperienced?"

She blinks a few times to gather herself and sighs, "I was raised to wait. For marriage, for my husband. For love. For... well,_ you_, I suppose."

He smirks, "Well, I'm flattered..."

She's not sure if he's teasing her or if he's being sincere.

"Tell me, did your dear mother send you up here?"

"She told me to come to your bedchamber, yes." She confirms, avoiding his gaze slightly.

"You mean _our_ bedchamber." He corrects her and she simply nods.

At least they're having a remotely civilized conversation, something she never would have thought possible when her mother had announced to her that she'd be marrying this man.

He appears decent, at least from what she knows of him so far, from how they've talked, from what she's seen.

Gabriella licks her lips and straightens her back to loosen a tight muscle, inadvertently pressing herself down harder against him. She suddenly stops and glances down between them, noticing the apparent bulge in his trousers. Her anxiety comes back and she dares to look up at his face, almost caving under his amused expression.

It's worth a short, she tells herself. They're married now, and she knows that she's going to have to give in to him eventually. It can't hurt, well not that much, and it's not as if he's going anywhere anytime soon.

She tentatively rests her hands on his broad shoulders, her fingertips digging into the blades. Troy doesn't move as she budges, instead he just watches her actions, his growing lustful gaze staring up at her as she leans closer.

Gabriella closes her eyes for an instant as she straddles his lap comfortably, her fingers pressing into him as he runs his hands up her thighs and under her gown. Her skin erupts in goosebumps when he moves his hands back down to her knees.

She opens her eyes and stares down at him, swallowing a breath as she moves herself against him, bringing their bodies closer as she slowly grinds herself on his lap. His right hand flies to her hair, pulling down the clip so her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders, encasing her face against his. She rests her forehead against his as he throws her hairpin to the ground and his hands resume their place on her legs, his hands cupping the backs of her knees in his grasp roughly.

She knowingly presses herself down against him, a wicked smile on her lips when he softly groans at the pressure. Maybe she's not as innocent as she thought, she ponders. His thumbs brush circular patterns on her thighs as he holds her in place.

As she continues to move rhythmically against him, Gabriella slips her hands down the collar of his white shirt, her fingers touching his heated skin with tension. She licks her lips before slipping the first button undone, proceeding until his shirt falls open before her.

She takes a second to admire his toned torso before she feels herself being pulled forward, her mouth connecting with his passionately. She doesn't respond for a moment, wondering how to go ahead with everything, until his tongue sweeps across her bottom lip and she lets go and kisses him back intensely, granting him willing access to her mouth. Her teeth bite into his lower lip and she smiles when he groans again, obviously reacting positively to her new approach.

Troy grasps her legs tighter, bringing her closer to him if possible, with a smirk when she moans into his mouth.

He moves a hand to cup the back of her neck for a moment before he pulls down a thin strap of her gown, his lips leaving hers to press against her skin. His places open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and down her chest, stopping at the curve of her breasts.

His hands go back to her thighs and she softly moans when he slips them higher under the hem of the cloth, «Troy.» His fingers fumble with the thin line of her lacy panties for a second or so before he hooks his thumbs down the sides. He continues to work his mouth against her skin as he pulls the material down her legs quickly, leaving the underwear resting at her curved knees in his lap.

"Troy." She speaks his name again, slightly louder this time as he wrinkles her nightgown around her waist and grips her hips in his hands.

He holds her in place for a second, glancing up at her heated face as her naked center rests against him, aching and begging for him to touch her. Her hands push this shirt from his shoulders and he pulls it away to toss it onto the ground. She presses her face into his chest, her teeth biting into his collarbone as he finally touches her, his hands rubbing against her bundle of nerves.

She slightly jumps when he slips a finger inside her core, his thumb tracing her clit delicately as he kisses up her neck sloppily, sucking on the skin beneath her ear and leaving his mark.

Gabriella breathes out heavily as he adds another finger and works her body masterly. Her hands scrape down his chest as he continues, her fingernails marking his skin violently when she feels herself collapse against him, her first orgasm taking over her body.

She leans back slightly, gripping his shoulders as he continues to touch her and kiss down her chest, using his teeth to pull down the rest of her night-dress. The entire gown gathers around her waist and she lets out faint sounds as he finally reaches her breasts. His runs a hand over her left as he licks her right, his tongue swirling around her nipple for a moment before biting and sucking down.

"_Jesus Christ_._"_ The words barely escape her lips as she breathes out and she throws her head back, climaxing against him, her body complete putty in his hands.

He removes his fingers from her, rubbing against her fragile center for a second to calm her down. His teeth let go of her nipple and he brings his finger to his mouth, licking the tip to taste her on him as she watches, a haunted look in her eyes.

Troy holds it up to her lips and she opens her mouth to taste herself on his fingers. She slowly licks his finger, taking her time to torture him before sucking on it.

She's not even sure how he did it, but he's somehow already managed to turn her into some sort of dirty and improper bride, and they haven't even made love yet.

She lets his hand drop and throws her head down onto his shoulder, her lips achingly tracing the skin.

He cups the back of her neck again, holding her against him possessively. His other hand rests on her naked back, tracing soft patterns on the skin just above her behind. "You're tired."

She gently nods against him, her hands coming down to rest on his trousers. She glances up at him when she feels the ever evident heat in his lap and she bites her bottom lip again, a questioning look on her face.

He shakes his head, repeating himself, "You're tired." He runs a hand through her hair and slips his hands lower to cup her behind, "And you're not ready for that."

Before she knows what's happening, he's picking her up and walking her over towards his bed, _their_ bed. He lies her down, pulling back the many covers and removing the unnecessary gown from her body.

He tucks her naked body beneath the comforters and watches as she quickly drifts off to sleep, her hands slipping beneath her pillow.

Troy sighs and runs a hand over his face with a yawn. He irritably stares down at his pants for a second before he decides to head into the bathroom to sort himself out.

He's married to her now, to his virginal bride whom he has no idea how to treat or love.

"Jesus Christ."


	2. Chapter 2

Charade

Chapter Two

* * *

She wakes up with a cold shiver, a breeze running down her back as she tosses in the bed.

"Miss?"

She suddenly sits up, her eyes wide as she spots the woman by the door.

The woman in question, brown-eyed and dark of skin, smiles at Gabriella, holding out a tray. She spots the teapot and cup and sighs. "I'm sorry, I've only just woken up." She tries, holding the bed sheet up to her chest as the woman approaches.

Wait, why is she holding the bed sheet? Why is she... naked? _Oh, God_.

"Miss? Do you like milk in your morning tea?" She asks, pouring the hot liquid into the small cup.

Gabriella shakes her head and smiles, "No, thank you. You are allowed to call me Gabriella, I hope you're aware. I wouldn't want you to think that I am all that different from you." She gladly takes the cup and holds it between her hands, "What is your name?"

"Mckessie- Taylor McKessie, I am your maid under Mr Bolton's supervision."

She seems around thirty years old, and well-mannered.

"I see." Gabriella speaks, slowly nodding her head, "And where is my... husband?" The word still sounds foreign to her.

Taylor raises her eyebrows, "He has not told you? He left a short while ago for a long walk." She explains, picking the tray back up from the edge of the bed.

"Where has he gone?" Gabriella enjoys a walk, and she figures that it might be time to spent to get to know her _husband_.

"Around the gardens. They're quite large but I'm positive you could find him. I'm told he always stops by a statue." She shrugs, hoping to be helpful.

The younger brunette nods, "Could you please help me?"

"It is my job to unsure that you receive everything you please, so I am sure we could find your husband without a hassle."

Gabriella takes another sip of her tea before settling it down on her bedside table. She goes to move from the bed until she remembers her nude state, "I- Uh... could you fetch me my gown?" She asks, watching as Taylor is already grabbing her gown.

"You aren't the first bride I've followed, Miss." She informs her and Gabriella blushes.

"He- Troy had... other wives?"

"No, no, Miss. My apologies, you misunderstood. I meant his father's wives. You are young mister Bolton's first bride, you needn't worry."

She nods then, standing from the bed as she dresses.

"I'll only be a moment."

* * *

"How far does it go?"

Taylor smiles as she walks behind Gabriella. "For around twenty acres. Don't go worrying, Miss, I'm sure you'll learn your way around with time."

Gabriella breathes out, folding her arms over her chest at the slightly cold air, "It's fresh weather for end of August."

Her maid nods, "Indeed."

They continue walking for a couple of minutes before they stop at a stone bench.

"Ahh, I think I have found him." Taylor speaks, pointing ahead towards a statue, and the man beside it.

Looking over in front of her, Gabriella thanks her for her company before heading over to her husband.

She walks down the small-stoned path, her hand tracing along the back of the bench as she goes, her fingers collecting light dirt. She stops not too far away from him, her hands resting behind her back as she tilts her head to the side.

She notices his hands in his pockets, his stiff back and his casual choice of clothing. She think that he clearly has no work to do today, but then she remembers that he is supposed to be one some sort-of honeymoon.

Because they're married now.

She glances down at her dress, frowning at a thread hanging from the dark red hem. It captivates her attention for a second, until she hears his voice call out to her.

"I thought you might have wanted to rest."

Gabriella's head perks up and she faintly smiles as she steps closer, "Good morning." She stands beside him, "I slept comfortably. Thank you."

He nods, his face in deep concentration and she notes that he hasn't looked at her yet.

"Is there something wrong?"

Her voice sounds concerned and he turns to smile down at her, "Everything is fine."

She nods and licks her lips, her cold hands rubbing together.

He glances down at her shivering hands, "You're cold. Here," He gently takes off his dark jacket and places it over her shoulders, pulling out her tucked-in hair to rest against her back.

"Thank you." She blushes slightly until she realizes that it's stupid, that she can't blush or act like a foolish little girl around him because he's her husband now, and she has to act like his wife.

Troy sighs, closing his eyes before speaking, "I have no idea what I'm doing." He tells her honestly, his voice almost so mute that she barely hears him.

She ponders for a second before taking his hand in her grasp and threading her fingers through his, "Me neither." She swallows a nervous breath when he looks down at her with that gaze, "But... we'll figure this out together."

"Thank you."

They stand in a foreign silence for a moment, hands clasped and eyes watching an unmoving statue.

"You seem fascinated by whoever this is. Tell me who it is?"

He shrugs, "I can't tell because I honestly have no clue."

Gabriella softly giggles, her smile wide and her hand wrapping tighter around his own.

"Have you eaten?" She's not even sure where the question comes from, but perhaps they could converse over a good breakfast, she thinks.

He shakes his head, glancing down to watch her, "Have you?" She finds herself unable to answer for a short while when he takes her other hand in his and starts to walk her backwards.

"I'm not hungry." He says, his hands sliding up her arms and he reaches her jacket-covered shoulders. He slips his hands to her waist then, his fingers digging into the low of her back.

She stares up at him, entranced until she feels her back hit a rough surface. Her hands touch it, feeling the familiar texture of a tree. _Jesus Christ_, is he being serious?

Her hands grip the wooden stock, tilting her head back when he leans down. She can feel his breath along the base of her neck and she gulps, "Tell me, are you hungry?" He asks her, and she's not entirely sure it's even a question.

Eyes closed, she gives into him, her back arching forward as he lifts her up. "Yes."

She wraps her legs around his waist, her hands still not touching his body. Troy grasps the backs of her thighs and sharply pulls her tighter against him, pressing himself her lower half. She bites her bottom lip again as he pushes his jacket from her shoulders and pulls up the edge of her dress to her hips.

She can feel him against her, hot and wanting, but she can't find it in herself to let him have her.

"For what?"

She's positive that he isn't talking about food anymore, that the topic is pushed to the back of his mind.

His hand trail up the outsides of her thighs, resting on the hips beneath her creased dress.

Gabriella closes her eyes, letting her arms wrap around his neck as she keeps herself up against him, her fingers toying with the hairs on the back of his neck. He parts her legs further, stepping closer between them if possible.

She shivers from the cold air hitting against her bare legs, and she snaps back to reality. She pushes against him suddenly, letting herself drop to the ground as she moves away from him, pulling her dress back down her thighs.

She picks his jacket off of the floor and tosses it over her shoulders warmly. He smirks when she runs a hand through her tussled hair and takes a deep breath, "For food."

He's not sure how she walks away so fast but he finds himself following her, his face amused as she speeds up her pace.

* * *

"How is your supper, Miss?" A maid asks she puts a bottle of wine down on the table.

Gabriella smiles at her, "It's wonderful, thank you. I've never felt something so smooth in my mouth, it just melts. It's delicious."

"Yet." Troy pipes up from the other end of the table, a grin on his face as he flicks through some letters.

She ignores his suggestive comment with glare before glancing back up at the elderly woman with a soft smile. "Thank you."

The woman pours her another glass of red wine before picking up the pot of water and placing it in the middle of the large table before leaving the married couple in silence.

They sit in a comfortable quiet for a few minutes, each minding their own business. Gabriella buttering her bread and Troy continuing to read through his papers.

Her butter knife makes a loud clinging sound as it drops onto her plate and she sighs a deep breath before finally breaking the silence.

"Why are you so cold with me?" She asks, a frown on her face as she places her hands in her lap.

Troy looks up, raising an eyebrow at her question. He brushes it off with a shake of the head, "I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You have been all day, ever since breakfast. You're warm with me, and then you're cold again. I know you didn't ask for this, but neither did I. We're both struck in this situation so we might as well get along."

"We were getting along until you decided to start a argument."

"I'm not starting an argument, I'm ending one." She declares, slamming her hands down on the table briefly before standing and storming away from their breakfast.

Troy rolls his eyes with a sigh before following after her, his footsteps slow behind hers as she runs up the stairs.

She quickly makes it into their bedroom, leaning herself forward on the bed, her chest panting heavily. Taylor trails behind her and helps her unzip her dress as she gasps for air.

He makes it to their room and stands in the doorway with a heated expression.

"Leave."

Taylor falters and glances at Gabriella for reassurance. The brunette looks away and swallows a breath before Taylor leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

"What do you want from me?" She shouts, her hands resting on the side of the bed to hold her up as she pants.

"I don't want anything." He tells her honestly, moving closer to stand behind her. He grasps her hips and pulls her against his front, her back colliding with his hard chest. "I need it." She doesn't breathe for a moment, letting his words sink in, and gulps when he pulls down the rest of the zip on the side of her dress. He tugs down the thin straps and lets it fall from her body, pooling around her feet as she kicks it aside. "And you need it, too."

"I don't need anything from you." She tries, closing her eyes agin when he brings a hand around her front and plays with the knot of her night-gown.

Troy leans his head in the crook of her neck, "No, but you still want it." His words continue to confuse her and she mentally kicks herself for letting him take control over her, "You want this. You want me." He unties the string of her small gown and places open-mouthed kisses against her neck, "You want me to touch you." His hand grab her hair and pull out her the ribbon holding her loose ponytail in place, making her curls fall over her shoulders. He sweeps it to the side to touch her neck again and grasps the front of her dress in his hold, "Say it."

He's not forcing her to do anything, he's not being rude, he's just pointing out what she's been feeling all day. "No."

"You don't want me to do this?" He kisses her neck again, suckling on her skin, "Or this?" His hand slips up her stomach before sliding down her knickers, cupping her center.

She moans and fidgets, thrusting back against him.

"I think you do." He smiles devilishly, gripping her hips as she rests back against his body further, her behind pressing into him and her hands gripping his legs from behind her.

She stays still, letting his mouth work down her neck toward the top of her back, gently presses butterfly kisses along her soft skin, "You're my husband. I have to want you."

Troy pauses, stopping his movements against her, "This has nothing to do with us being married."

"Doesn't it?" She turns her head to look at him through the corner of her eye, "I was under the impression that because we were betrothed, I had to give myself over to you, and submit to you, and give you everything you could ever want..."

"I did not ask for you to marry me, are we clear?" He steps away from her, his hands hanging stiff as he sighs, "I did not make you do any such thing."

Gabriella half-smiles, turning around to face him as she folds her arms over her almost bare chest, "Believe me, _husband_, I know that. I don't do anything I do not want to, not without thinking about it. I didn't marry you for your money, or for your charms and good looks, nor for me. I married you for your business, and for my family alone. They needed me, so I needed you. I am not going to be your little play toy for when you get tired or angry. I am not going to put up with your hard and cold behaviour. And I am definitely not going to give you anything, any part of me, until I want to. I am your wife, and you need to respect me, or this marriage is never going to work."

She stalks past him then, pulling on the hem of her small dress as she leaves the room and heads down the corridor, searching for Taylor, no doubt. She thanks the stars that this is her house now, so she's allowed to cry and scream whenever she pleases. A loud sob escapes her as she collapses down on the bathroom floor when Taylor rushes in.

"Miss Gabriella, what has happened?" She kneels down before the young woman in concern, holding her shoulders comfortably.

Gabriella shakes her head with a cry,"I don't know if I can do this."


End file.
